


Missing You

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“-Thank you.” Mark breathes, one hand holding your cheek delicately. You blink, trying to frown but your face won’t cooperate. “For taking care of him. He needed you and you didn’t turn him away.” </p><p>And like that he’s gone. You don’t see him for the rest of the week, but you don’t see Fernando either. And you know they’re together and you know they’re hiding and talking and doing everything you used to do with Mark. </p><p>Everything you miss the most. </p><p>But you still can’t stop it. </p><p>*Set Monaco 2014*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing You

You’re sat quietly in your hotel room. Nothing really matters at the moment. You had a good race for once, actually ending in the points and beating your teammate, so you really don’t have much to be annoyed about. That was what Dave had said to you in your post-race technical briefing when you had appeared to be in a foul mood. What no one understands is that that isn’t the reason for your mood. In fact, that isn’t the reason for your foul mood all season. It isn’t really down to the car being shit again at all. Yeah, that doesn’t help, but something is missing this year. Something that hadn’t been missing last year. Something that could come and take the sting out of a shit race with a simple word or a simple gesture. Something that understood how it felt to be overshadows by a younger, newer teammate. Something you could empathise with and be empathised with. 

Or more, someone.

It hurts more to know he is here. Or definitely was. So close but too far away. Out of your reach. You can still remember how you had left things in Brazil. The gentle pat on the shoulder. The final brush of his lips. We’ll keep in touch, Jense. This isn’t it. Mark had smiled. And you had really believed him. Really believed that Mark wouldn’t forget you when he was with all of his World Endurance Racer friends. Really thought you could stay as close as you were in Formula One. Of course that hasn’t happened. Mark has gone and now you are alone. The one singular text message you have received from the Australian since he left had really settled that home. It had been after Bahrain and you were so annoyed. Your car had failed on the last lap. You just needed to hear his voice, be comforted by some joke or random observation. So you had sent Mark a text, cursing yourself at the fact you had broken your unexplainable silence. It was simple, straight to the point: Can I give you a call?. Texts wouldn’t have cut it that night. You needed his voice; pretend you were back like old times. But nothing screams ‘it’s over’ like the reply you received: Can’t right now. With Brendon. No other explanation. No I’ll call you later. That was it. 

With Brendon. 

He’s already replaced you, and it’s only been six months. That has left you feeling more alone than ever, hence the barricading yourself alone in your hotel room. Nobody understands how abandoned you feel. No one can fill that void where he should be. No one can reciprocate the feelings you feel for him. You’ve been cut of at the source but the cut was so jagged there is no resolution, no escape. You can’t move on from him because you stuck between reality and the past.

Kevin has tried to pull you out. And you’re grateful for him. Grateful of his efforts. But you’ve known for too long now that you are stuck. Too long has it lingered over your head there is no way forwards. You miss him too much. He’s taken a part of you and you don’t know how to get it back. And if Mark is in possession of that how can you possibly give it to Kevin? When Kevin offered to come back to the hotel with you, to spend the evening with no other intention but to try and cheer you up you refused. Bluntly. There is only one person you want to see tonight and you know he’s coming nowhere near you. 

The silence of the small room should be eating you up, nagging at you to get out of this self-sorry mood. But you relish it; invite it to spread across every thought until everything sharp looks appetising. You skin tingles as you envisage what it would look like to wound yourself. Maybe that would get his attention. Maybe then he would come away from his fucking boat party and see you, hold you. Check you were still in one piece. You’re not. You’re smashed across the floor, fractured into particles with no knowledge of how to press yourself back together. Your eyes fall on the doorway to the balcony. Locked. Shut. Holding your thoughts and the silence in the room. 

How would it feel to fly through the air? 

Closing your eyes and loving the rush before the darkness?

Flying for what could be minutes or seconds?

Leaving your thoughts in the room for the next sorry occupant? 

The crunch that could put it all to rest?

You’re on your feet when there are three knocks at the door. You’ll never allow yourself to think back to that point to ask if you were on your feet to answer it or jump. The dark place you never want to return to. The sharp sound that made you blink. 

You do, however, look at the door for a moment, considering who could be after you at this hour. You check your watch. Half eight. 

All right, so it’s not so late. 

Kevin, probably. Making sure you’re still Ok. A habit of his since Bahrain. The day you broke the hotel room. He’s tried to be closer to you since but you push him away, not wanting to know. It’s getting harder to keep up the happy act and you know the press can see it. 

They ask about it. 

You just shrug your shoulders. 

It’s not like you can really answer them, is it.

It could be the press. Some fucking arsehole whom thinks he or she can get an exclusive. Your eyes fall back onto the balcony… That would be an exclusive.   
But the need is gone now. The urge, the rush of adrenaline is mute. Besides, how can you get Mark to check on you if you jump? That’s a sure way to end it, and you hope you’re not at that point.

But he has Brendon, why would he need me?

The knocker knocks again and you roll your eyes. 

 

Fernando feels it too. You don’t know that, not yet anyway, but he pangs just like you do, feeling abandoned. They were supposed to meet in Australia. Mark was supposed to slip out of his press duties and go and see him, pick up where they left Brazil. They did, but that same unsatisfied feeling was left when Mark had to rush off again. You don’t know Mark had gone to Fernando after he left you in Brazil. You don’t know that they were rushed and it was messy and Fernando didn’t reach his release because of you. 

Only Mark knows how he kept you a secret from each other for so long. 

Only Mark knows. 

But Fernando seems better than you at this. He hides what he’s feeling. You’ve seen him in the press pit, talking, shrugging, sometimes even smiling. Always hidden behind his sunglasses or that cap. Somehow stopping the world from seeing him properly. Only Mark has ever seen him vulnerable, even though you would say you have, you haven’t truly. And you know that. You know he’s at a lower point. 

The talk was always them. Never you. Fernando and Mark. Fernando and Mark. Fernando and Mark. Sometimes you hated it. Sometimes you loved it. Look at us, pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. You would whisper triumphantly in press conferences or during the driver’s parade. Mark would never give an answer. He would just grunt uncommitted. You never looked much into it. Maybe you should have done. 

After Mark announced his retirement it had got worse. 

Fernando and Mark.

Fernando and Mark.

Fernando and Mark.

Fucking Fernando and Mark.

He was always there. You never got a second’s chance. That should have been where you saw it, the real Mark Webber. The one who didn’t care about you. But you didn’t. You still turned up every Saturday evening. You still congratulated him for his poles. 

Never on Sundays. 

Neither of you won, where would be the point in celebration?

Now, you realise, that was Fernando’s night. 

That started Fernando’s week. 

Especially if there was a fortnight between races. 

 

You are shocked when Fernando walks into your room. You didn’t expect him. His phone is in his hands and he happily walks straight passed you. He’s not smiling. He has a determined look about him. The one he normally wears before a race. You let the door close, snapping through the air and fracturing the silence. Fernando throws the balcony doors wide open and lets the street noise ruin the tranquillity you had created. You’re still confused. But now he’s on the phone. 

You’d only realise after this that this was his most vulnerable. This was how Mark used to see him. 

He hasn’t said anything to you but you know why he’s on the balcony. You can see Mark’s boat from here. Or, the boat he is staying on. Standing in the doorframe you watch Fernando, watch his heel bounce impatiently as he leans on the safety rail, eyes glued to that boat. You can hear the loud music faintly pumping from it from here. It would be a miracle if Mark heard his phone over that. That’s an assumption; you don’t know whom Fernando is calling. But, staring at the boat you both know he is on, it’s a pretty good guess. 

And you’re not wrong. 

Fernando nearly hurls the phone over the balcony. You see the flinch in his arm. But he doesn’t. He, instead, turns to face you, sinking to the floor. Clutches the thin device close to him like it is a lifeline. His back pressed against the cold metal. And you know he’s probably going to get freezing cold of you leave him out there. But what else is there for you to do? You just observe him, still leaning against the doorframe. Too tired to kick him out but too desolate to help him up. You feel yourself blinking slowly. Eyes tired for sleep or tired of this? Tired of this feeling. Second best to this man always. With Mark and on the track. That’s something you’re sure of. 

But then he’s crying. 

And you don’t know how to feel.   
You hate him for being better at being sad about Mark than you.   
You want to pull him close and tell him it will be fine.   
But you can’t do that because you know it’s not true. 

You want him to leave.  
You want him to stay.   
You loathe him for confusing you so much more than you already were. 

And the balcony looks like a lovely place to jump from.   
You’re stepping forwards, hands resting on the top of the rail.   
Looking down  
you notice it’s high  
though you are on the sixteenth floor.  
You see the boat in the harbour  
you see the chicane out of the tunnel  
that’s where you would land  
and there is a hand on your ankle but you’re ignoring it.  
It doesn’t matter  
not important  
for once, you’re definitely ignoring Fernando.

A soft breeze hits your face and you lean into it.

It feels nice.

Soothing…

 

You remember coming out of the tunnel on the driver’s parade. You are standing alone, glaring down the trailer as you lean against the rail by the front of the truck. You can see him, smiling softly, staring at his phone. Blatantly ignoring the crowds around him. He isn’t even looking, hanging his leg over the rail, back to the stadiums. He’ll be facing the yachts. His head down looking at his phone. And it’s niggling you. You want to slap him, throw his phone into the bay. 

Your feet are already walking you towards him as you burst from the darkness of the tunnel into the sunlight. He doesn’t notice you approaching. Your eyes are glued to him as you walk past Jules, Seb, Daniel, Felipe, Lewis. He looks up suddenly, smiling. You follow his gaze. You’re blocked from sight, of course you are.   
Of course you are. 

Fernando smiles brighter as you look to the yacht. 

You want to throw Max off the trailer just to get closer to him. Your eyes are wide and you can’t believe it. You can’t believe it. But he’s not looking at you. He can’t see you. Max is in the way. But you see him. You see him smile. 

Eyes only for Fernando. 

Mark smiles and sends Fernando a small wave.

Fernando. 

Fernando gets the recognition and you are left behind, the truck taking you away from Mark. And then he’s gone. One in a million yachts and you’ll never find it again. (Later on they’ll put an Australian flag on the front and you’ll just know it’s him). You look back at Fernando whose attention is already back on his phone. 

You grab his shoulder and he frowns at your glare, fingers paused above his screen. 

“How did you know?” You bit, and you’re not sure how the three steps made you so aggressive. Fernando winches as your fingers dig deeper into his shoulder. 

“What?” He sends back, pushing you off him. You go to take his phone. 

“How did you know it was Mark?” You barely whisper. The Spaniard looks at you like you’ve lost it. His eyes drop to the phone again and he’s ignoring you. He’s ignoring you because his phone is more interesting. 

His phone shows Mark.

Mark’s text. 

Where’d Kimi go? Weird to see only one Fezza driver…   
Though it did make finding you a lot easier ;)

You want to steal his phone but you feel yourself falling back instead. Mark is texting Fernando. Mark is texting Fernando and not you. And you want to hurl something. Or cry. But right now crying isn’t really the option. You’re eyes focus again and Fernando it typing back. Fernando is replying and you can’t stop him. Fernando is still talking to Mark and you can’t even get one fucking phone call? Nothing is making sense. You want to scream, hurt him. Hurt Mark. Hurt Fernando. Hurt them both. Just hurt someone. Make someone else feel your pain. 

 

And you can’t work out why you’re sitting with him. You can’t work out why you’re letting him cry on your shoulder. You just don’t know. Because he was talking to Mark. You’re missing Mark like you’ve lost a limb and Fernando is still talking to him but he’s crying. Crying his fucking heart out. And you have to stay. Even if you’re just sitting. Because Fernando is here and maybe he understands. Maybe he feels your pain. But he’s crying and you don’t know what to do. So you take his phone. It’s still unlocked so you find his messages. And you read them because you need to understand. And Fernando doesn’t object. 

He just cries. 

Quietly against your shoulder. The only sound the occasional sniff. 

Kimi’s got indigestion. Will be ready for the race :)   
And you think is hard to find? Try looking for one yacht in a million yachts! ;)

You can feel his tears staining your shirt but you don’t care. He’s sad and you’re sad. Why would it matter whose tears they are?

I’ll leave a little note for you during the race then :P 

How will I know?

You’ll see it :P You’ll know it’s me ;)

Miss you being here. Is not the same… :(

I know, Fernando, I miss being there :(

Was nice seeing you in Spain :)

Well, I had to congratulate you for China. Couldn’t leave your first podium un-ordained now could I? ;)

Am sorry have missed your races. Wanted to come.

Nothing you can do about it. Just the way the calendar’s clash.

But you have been to three of mine now… :/

I’m sure you’ll make it up to me ;)

You stop reading because you don’t think you can take anymore. Mark has been at three races and you haven’t seen him once. Only for Fernando. Fernando curls closer to you but you feel numb. You can’t feel him or the cold. Everything feels like it’s falling. But not you. You’re stuck in this place, this place that makes you feel like the past has been moving on without you, as well as the present. You don’t know what you’re supposed to think or feel. You don’t know how you’re supposed to react. 

You want to ask questions. Send flying accusations. Yell at Fernando. Yell at Mark. But you know none of that will get you anywhere. You remember the talk. All of the talk. Fernando and Mark. Fernando and Mark. Fernando and Mark. It echoes around your head until you can’t escape it. Fernando and Mark. There is no escape from this. You have to admit it. Mark was there for your benefit. Fernando was his benefit. Fernando was always his. 

And maybe it’s the realisation you needed but right now you can’t see that. 

You can feel Fernando’s eyes on you as he tries to control his breathing. You ignore him because you have to. So you return to the phone. 

Fourth is not bad, mate :) Good to see the little lion back on it x

Third would have been better… Or first. x

Don’t beat yourself up about it too much, Fer. You know it’s not the most competitive car on the grid. x

I know… I saw your flag :) xx

Flying it for you, buddy :) xx

Made my lonely race a little less lonely :) Was nice to see Spain and Australia together ^_^ xx

I’ve told you before, Fernando. I’m always with you :) xx 

As am I with you, even if cannot be there physically :) xxx

This little guy helps with that ;) xxx

Mark had attached a picture of a small cuddly lion toy. It is adorable. And it’s got a small Spanish flag as a cape. 

Will be done in ten minutes :) Should I meet on your boat? xxx

I’ll come to you. See you then :) xxx

Ok :) Room 815 xxx

The rest of the texts were only from Fernando.

Have you got lost again? ;) xxx

Where are you? :) xxx

If you are caught up somewhere is fine :) Just text me the time you will be here xxx

Mark, are you Ok? xx 

Am a little worried now. x 

Can you just text me to let me know you are Ok? 

The texts stopped and you know that’s when he must of started to call. Reading the messages doesn’t help you at all. It just makes you realise Mark is blowing Fernando off too. Albeit having taken a few more months, but maybe Mark is moving on from the entire Formula One thing. Maybe that means having to leave you all behind. Abandoning you so he doesn’t hurt too much. You can’t believe that. 

You won’t believe that. 

You remember how Mark’s face lit up on the driver’s parade. 

There is no way you can believe that. 

It’s only now you feel Fernando’s arm curled tightly around your waist. And it startles you for a moment because it’s not what you expect. But his head is rested in the crevice of your neck and it fits. It just works for the moment you suspend yourself in reality. But then it changes and Fernando is pressing his lips on your skin. It feels hot and right and wrong at the same time. Because you know about Mark and him. You know about Mark and you. And everything and nothing adds up at the same time as Fernando shuffles closer to you. 

Your mouth is dry and no words are forming on your lips. 

“He asks about you… Talks about you…” Fernando mutters. You swallow, feeling your Adam’s apple bounce against his cheek. You know he’s moving closer to you. You just don’t know why. “On the phone he asks normally. Always asks about you first.” You’re not sure why Fernando is telling you this, or even admitting it. If things were the other way around you know it would be the last thing you would do. Fernando’s head hits your thigh and your hands instinctively find his hair. It reminds you of Mark. Reminds you of how you comforted him through 2010, how you made him feel better after he lost the championship lead…

“I come here first because he does not answer… Thought maybe he had come to you…” Fernando sighs contently and you can feel him relax. Feel him relax against you like Mark used to. And maybe that’s why it was always talk of Fernando and Mark. Maybe that’s why they still talk and you don’t. Because they are each other. You shake your head, still not able to find the energy to kick Fernando out. 

Your hands still when his palm presses against your cheek.

“Does he ask about me?” Fernando asks, sitting up. You can see the curiosity in his eyes. You know how much he is dying to know. Maybe Mark told him about you two. Maybe Fernando just guessed. But you shake your head because Mark and you don’t talk anymore. But Fernando’s posture deflates. 

“I miss him…” Fernando mutters, his eyes on his hands as they slide under your shirt. You watch him like a curious child as his fingers explore you skin. “Are the only one who understands…” You think you would feel a little more sympathetic if you didn’t know Fernando is still in contact with Mark. Still speaking with Mark. Still fucking Mark. You can’t find any other emotion but a stony gaze, one to give nothing away. Fernando sighs as his eyes find yours. 

“Must hate me…” He deduces. But his hands stay firmly on you, warm palms pressed against your cold back. “I knew about you. Obviously did not know about me.” When your noses brush against each other it brings you crashing to the here and now. Because Fernando is lying close to you, his body forwards in an attempt to close the gap you have created with your crossed legs. And you don’t know what to do about anything. 

When Fernando’s lips are on yours you freeze. You don’t know what he’s trying to gain from this, what he wants from you, you just know he’s kissing you. Slowly, you fall into it. And you part your lips for him, unfolding your legs and pulling him closer. It’s soft and gentle and unexplainable. He’s slow with one hand still warming your back as the other traces you cheek. Your hands find their way into his hair and wrap around his short curly strands. You feel his tears transfer to your face, but for all you know they’re your tears. And you know your both pretending your kissing someone else. And that’s why your eyes are both squinted closed tightly, holding onto the wisp of the illusion you have created. 

When Fernando takes off your shirt you have moved back inside. The door is close but the curtains are still open, leaving you feeling bare and vulnerable. Fernando’s movements are broken by kisses, chastely running up and down your body as he exposes more skin. You still keep your eyes closed, letting the feeling of being wanted roll over you again. You remember it like you remember the first time with Mark. The subtle glances all day, the mutual bad feeling of a shit race. He had curled into your arms like Fernando had. And you had made love, not fucked. It had been too much of a deeper feeling to be a casual fuck. It was for comfort. Just like now. 

When Fernando has you naked you open your eyes. And he’s not looking at you but at you. You’re not sure if he’s trying to size you up, see who is bigger but you find yourself relishing his gaze. And so you continue to watch him as you pull on the hem of his shirt. He blushes, catching you staring at him staring at you but one soft nod on your part allows Fernando the permission he needs to keep staring whist you undress him. You both stand naked in the dim light of the setting sun. And there is no rush. You’re looking at him, wondering if he made Mark react like you once did. Even if he still does it. You wonder who knows more about Mark’s body in this room. You wonder who had him clawing to the sheets and begging for release. You wonder if it was Mark on top with Fernando. You wonder if that is the reason behind Mark not minding being fucked by you half the time. You are both openly staring at each other, simply wondering. 

When Fernando looks up at you from below your arms he looks sad. You know why. You know you are not who he wants to be with. And you still don’t know why he’s here. You do know, however, that he’s not just here for a fuck. If he just wanted satisfaction you know there are many more places he would have gone. You know Nico would open his legs to anyone who asks (having been there many, many times before yourself) and you know there are drivers up and down the grid who would do anything to have Fernando at their door. You know Fernando has come to you because he wants what he can get from Mark. You have that connection. And the sadness in his eyes is, no doubt, reflected in yours. 

When Fernando takes hold of you he sends you back into your fantasy. Your pretence that this is really Mark. An for the moment you let it swim about your head, remembering what it was like to have the Australian pinned down and pleasing you. His second hand massages slowly at your balls and you get lost in the feeling, loving the movement you haven’t truly felt since Brazil. And you know opening your eyes would ruin this, take away the magic. So you’re selfish and you steal this precious moment, you let yourself pretend this is last year and it’s Mark playing you in the right places, teasing you with his tongue. 

When you moan, it’s Mark’s name you call. But Fernando doesn’t stop because Fernando understands. You’re both doing this for the same reason. 

When Fernando stops teasing you he becomes nothing more than something for you. Your breath is caught by the thought that he still gets Mark. He still talks to Mark. So you make this all about you. And you take take take giving very little back. Fernando pines as you swiftly wank him. He throws his head back, exposing his neck as he grips to your arm. And you suck pointedly at his skin. Making sure to leave bruise-like marks patterned over his skin. You want to paten him; mark him as something of yours. Then Mark can remember. When Mark sees him he will know you marked him and he will have to remember you. He will have to think of you. Fernando shares no complaints, pulling your hips closer to him as he pants for breath. 

When you push inside of Fernando the world feels like it has stopped. And you get some clarity of why Mark would never want to give this up. Fernando sculptured body that he has spent time and time and time on almost glows in the hazy light. And he’s tight and relaxed at the same time. Each flutter of his muscles has you moaning, not being able to comprehend the fact you’re inside him. You think about Fernando, eyes strained closed as he begs you to move, pushing deeper. You comply, feeling trust that he will stop you if any of this hurts. His back arches towards you as you graze his prostate, so you do it again. And again. And again. Trying to get him to scream, trying to get him to call out. But you were right; he has shut his feelings away some place you can’t find them. You lick up his navel, gaining his nails digging deeper into your arm as he tired to hold on to something that makes sense. 

When Fernando cums his bottom lip is pressed so hard into his teeth they pierce through his delicate skin. Fernando tried so hard not to yell, not to make a sound as you fingers run up and down him, coaxing him to his climax. You follow soon after, panting and moaning and trying to not call for Mark again. Because that’s not where this is now, that’s not what it has led to. You force yourself not to fall into your fantasy, gripping onto Fernando tightly as you cum inside him. And you know you’ve both made a mess and you know Fernando will hurt because you’re balls deep in him as you cum, but neither of you care. When you lick up his stomach he gasps, surprised by the soft touch of your tongue cleaning him of the evidence of what you did. 

When Fernando falls asleep in your arms you don’t know how you’re feeling. You smile gently at the memory of him getting dressed and you ending up with each other’s team shirts on. Red suits you. He had joked. Not in this sport. you had returned smoothly. And he nodded. Because he understands. You think you’re next to go. You know you’ll follow Mark at some point. You’ll have to. Driver’s like Daniel and Sebastian and Daniil have to have their moment. They have to steal yours. 

But Fernando is peaceful in sleep. Wearing nothing but his boxers you can see the ink pressed into his body. The samurai tattoo that defines him and the pocket watch on his hip you know is for Mark. Mark had mentioned it once as a passing comment. Something he had supposedly noticed on Fernando’s body when they had all gone swimming. You know better now. And even if neither of them explains what it means you know it’s their mark. Fernando’s way of taking Mark with him everywhere. 

Just like Mark has the toy lion. 

In the morning you are awake first. You walk out onto the balcony and the first thing you notice is the yacht with the Australian flag. Only now does it dawn on you the Spanish one it missing. The one Fernando had loved driving passed during the race. And you feel slightly bad for Fernando. Fernando is still stuck in his fantasy, caught up with Mark and the attempt to keep things together at great distances. But something tells you that it’s not over and Mark will have his reasons for last night. 

I’m in your room. Sorry about last night. I’ll explain when you’re here. Te amo, Fernando xxxx 

You read that message on Fernando’s phone before you move off into the bathroom. You don’t really care. It hurts, very much so, to think Mark isn’t even caring about you. Doesn’t even think to wonder if you might have seen him on the driver’s parade. But you get in the shower and cry. Force yourself to sob until nothing more will come out of you. You’re emotionally raw when you leave the bathroom and you feel numb to not see Fernando under the duvet. Numb but not sad. You fold the tiny piece of paper he left you, simply reading Thanks x and put it in your wallet. 

 

Nothing happens between Fernando and you again. He smiles at you, talks to you like he would anyone else. Like nothing ever happened. But you can always see it now. That crack in his armour. The one Mark referenced every now and then. But when Mark mentioned it you had no idea what he was talking about. You do now. You see it when he gets second in Canada and you see it when he wins in Austria. You see that need for Mark or, at least, someone to help him celebrate. To join in his joy. But that can’t ever be you. He doesn’t want it to be. And you know that because he never comes to you. 

He let you in once, so you know you’re not alone, but he won’t let you in again. 

It’s your home race when it happens. Mark catches up to you. And your breath catches because you can’t stop it. He finds you coming out of the McLaren motor home ready for practice two. You’re not ready to see him and before you know it he’s got you pinned against the wall. And you don’t know what to think or feel because it’s Mark and you know deep down that you love him but you can’t stand to hurt Fernando but it’s happening without your permission and Mark’s lips are on yours and god you’ve missed them so much you can’t help but melt into his embrace but it’s Fernando you are thinking of as you do and the way he vulnerably let himself go in your company and you want to stop for Fernando but you can’t find the will power to do any-

“-Thank you.” Mark breathes, one hand holding your cheek delicately. You blink, trying to frown but your face won’t cooperate. “For taking care of him. He needed you and you didn’t turn him away.” And like that he’s gone. You don’t see him for the rest of the week, but you don’t see Fernando either. And you know they’re together and you know they’re hiding and talking and doing everything you used to do with Mark. Everything you miss the most. But you still can’t stop it. 

Kevin invites you out after you get the bottom step of the podium. 

You really smile as you accept his offer. 

 

It’s much much later in the year when it happens. You’re with Kevin now. You have been for a while. And even though you’re still a little reserved with him you can’t help but feel happy in his company. He’s extremely optimistic, always managing to make you smile even if you DNF. Sometimes, you feel like you can’t get enough of him. He’s an intoxicating being and you find yourself gravitating towards him. Ron wasn’t too happy to find the pair of you making out in the technical briefing room after a particularly good qualifying but he simply shrugged when you approached him about it, Kevin hiding behind your shoulder, claiming it was better that you were in the same team. 

Kevin frequently makes you laugh about that incident, his favourite game being ‘What if…?”

But you’re nearly at the end of the season when it happens. And it knocks you off your feet. You know Fernando’s room is opposite yours, but you could not have possibly predicted the situation you find yourself in. You’ve just let Kevin into your room, about to follow him in, when the door opposite opens. And you can’t help but turn. He knows you were going to be there. Maybe he’s been waiting. Mark gifts you a small smile that has you frozen to the spot. You can’t move. 

“Can I have a word? Just need a moment of your time, mate.” Mark says softly, pulling Fernando’s door closed behind him. You just stare at him, not knowing what to do or how to react. 

“Jenson?” Kevin calls from your room. And you panic. Because you want to talk to Mark but Kevin knows about you and Mark. You told him everything because you wanted to move passed that point that had you stuck. But Kevin knows. And you don’t think he’ll take too kindly to being pushed aside for Mark. 

“Two seconds, Kev. I’ve…” You start, eyes locked on Mark. He looks at you with all the sympathy in the world and you hate him for it. What is that look even supposed to mean? “I’ve forgotten my notes from Dave.” You say. 

“You idiot.” Kevin laughs. “Hold on, I’ll put my shirt back on.” He teases. But you miss it because you panic. 

“No!” You blurt, poking your head in the door. Kevin frowns at you, shirt halfway up his arms. “Don’t worry. I’ll be really quick. Make yourself comfortable.” You smile weakly. Not waiting for a reaction you close the door, leaning against it. Mark gives you that look again and you want to force it from his face. 

“That’s Kevin then?” Mark implores softly. You frown. “Seems nice. Though I’ve only ever seen him on TV-”

“-What is it you want?” You snap; that confusion of emotions rush to the surface again and you hate Mark for it. You had pushed all this aside; you had stepped over it for Kevin. And now you’re right back to square one. Mark drops his head sadly. 

“I wanted to explain myself.” Mark tries but you shake your head. 

“I don’t need to hear this right now.” You spit, turning for your door again. 

“Jenson, please.” Mark asks, grabbing your arm. You try and forget what Fernando told you in Monaco. You try and forget that Mark keeps asking after you. You hate those days when Fernando suddenly asks you a question only to push the answer into his phone and send it to Mark. They take you back towards that dark place. They take you back six months when you could barely move from sadness. 

Mark doesn’t care about you or he would have made the effort he made for Fernando. 

“I love him.” Mark explains when you finally cave. You’re both sitting on the floor at the other end of the corridor. He’s resting against one wall with a far off, in love look in his eyes. You don’t know what he wants you to say. 

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you. I guess that wasn’t fair. But getting away from the circus, mate, it made me realise I can’t live without him…” Mark sighs. You still don’t want to hear this. Kevin is probably wondering where you have got to now. He is, unfortunately, at the back of your mind. 

“But I love you too.” Mark reveals, dropping his eyes to yours. You feel the bottom fall out of your stomach as your head swirls with the possibility. He does still care. But you frown because he can’t; he has Fernando. 

“Jense, I’ve known you so long. I can’t just cut either of you out of my life. Fernando is wonderful and I can’t get enough of him. He’s like a drug, you know? Maybe you don’t…” Mark mutters, running his hands over his face. But you do understand. You definitely do. Isn’t that the exact feeling you have with Kevin? Isn’t that the exact reason Kevin is waiting in your hotel room?

“I love you but I can’t leave him. I tried. I tried for us, Jense, but I can’t do it. I want to be with you, you have no fucking idea, but he’s… I can’t explain…” Mark growls, getting annoyed at himself. You don’t know what to do with his words. They’re frying your brain and you feel dizzy. You feel like you’re going to pass out. Mark sighs before looking at you, trying again.

“With you, I see a future. I see kids and a house and a massive garden with a make shift go-kart track that we would use more than the kids.” Mark says and you can’t help but smile at the image. “And I want that. I want that more than anything… But I see him too.” Mark admits. 

You want to shout at him, scream at him for putting you back in this place. But you don’t. Can’t. You just nod and agree. Because you see all that in you’re future too. And it’s always been Mark. It’s always been Mark who pulled you close and made you laugh after a shit race. It’s always been Mark and it always will be. But you agree to his conditions because, maybe now, you can both move on. 

He’s stuck and so are you. 

I know I can’t have what I want with you because I will ruin us with him…

Jenson says nothing when Fernando asks him more questions from Mark on a regular basis. He answers and then pretends he wasn’t asked.

And I love you, Jense, more than I have ever loved anyone before… 

Jenson says nothing when Mark and Fernando move in together. 

I love you more than I love him… 

Jenson says nothing when Mark and Fernando get engaged.

But I need him... I can’t live without him…

Jenson says nothing when Mark and Fernando get married. 

I know this isn’t fair and it’s complicated but I can’t go on knowing you don’t know how I feel about you… 

Jenson says nothing when Mark and Fernando adopt their first kid. 

You can’t say anything to him though, you can’t say anything to anyone...

Jenson says nothing when Mark and Fernando buy the house with the massive garden and the make shift go-kart track.

You have Kevin now. I know you’re happy… 

Jenson says nothing when Mark and Fernando create their perfect family and their perfect life. 

 

Jenson says nothing.

Jenson never says anything.


End file.
